Skinny Love

eight o'clock a.m.

[unedited. grammar errors galore]

"Expectations are the worst (I think. I've learned not to have them). I always feel like I'm waiting for something that I know isn't going to happen. Jordan once called it paranoia. To set the record, I'm not paranoid. I'm just fucking scared that the entire earth will never be in my favor. Like Inception, but less dreamy and more nightmare. There are many people I associate with this side of my thoughts. I just happen to be one of them."

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DIARY ENTRY FROM LYDIA BEAU

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I WAS GOING TO DIE at the tender age of sixteen. Possibly from laryngitis.

My throat hurt from the arguing and I was certain that my face was flushed and angry. My mother's face replicated mine, and both of us were on either side of the dining table, leaning our hands against it and screaming out our arguments. She didn't take lightly for my lips touching a cheek that wasn't family, not that I had much family to begin with. I'd be surprised if the block couldn't hear each syllable of our argument perfectly clearly. It was embarrassing, sometimes, the amount of disapproving looks my mother and I got sometimes, ll because our paper thin walls allowed our whole world to know our problems.

"You think I want to see my little baby kissing another boy, let alone, one I don't even approve of?"

"How can I listen to you if you don't even tell me why you approve of him? We're not even dating, he's a friend as I've stressed on numerous accounts, and don't you dare give me that crap that he's the reason I stay up at night. Because we both know who we can blame for that." I said hotly, ignoring the 'little baby' jab and instead trying my best to control my easily ticked off temperament. I had already screamed about a foot away from my mother's face in frustration not too long ago, and cooling off a temper like mine took countless hours of isolation and loud punk songs.

"Friends don't kiss each other on the cheeks, Lydia," she chided and I squinted my eyes at her. She treated me like I was still a child, sometimes. "Couples kiss each other on the cheek, Lydia Beau. Don't you dare deny me."

"We aren't a couple, mother. Do you really think that low of me, mother? That I wouldn't even tell you if a boy and I are dating?" I flushed again, my own cheeks growing with color, from both anger and embarrassment. I didn't want to say it, but if it would make my mother stop nagging me, she needed to hear it.

"I...kissed him because he was nice to me. I was sick and it was pouring so he dropped me over...at...Calliope's," I attempted to say calmly, remembering the alibi that I had not been at Adam's house but rather at a sleepover in an all girls home. "It won't happen again," I resigned in defeat, collapsing on a half pulled up chair.

I was being honest when I said I never won these conversations. I wasn't one to stick to something all throughout, although majority of people I know would disagree.

"Damn right," she uttered harshly, making me wince. After a moment, even my mother noticed the tone of her voice and sighed. "Lydia Beau, I'm not going to ban you from seeing him. He'll, whenever I was grounded like that, I tried leaving out the window and broke my wrist and leg. But if you do insist on seeing him, which you probably do, promise me one thing."

"What?"

"He's just a boy. Promise me that he will always be just a boy. All boys leave Lydia. the second you show the slightest interest, they are going to leave," she said, and despite the now suddenly quiet aura of the room, I tried calming myself again by breathing deeply to my nose. My memory was flooding with images of bright green eyes, and a cheeky, fatherly smile. I was like a replica of him, my mother sometimes said back when he was still around, only female.